


Heatstroke

by pocky_slash



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: First Time, M/M, Summer, Swimming Pool, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's over a hundred degrees and the air conditioner in their motel room is broken. Charles tests out the motel pool. Erik tests out his self-control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heatstroke

**Author's Note:**

> Written for last week's Beat the Heat comment fest.

It's unbearably hot in Texas.

"Unbearably." That's Charles' word. Erik knows from unbearable and he wouldn't use it to describe the discomfort from a hundred degree day and a broken air conditioner, but Charles is practically wilting as he mournfully watches the maintenance worker poke at the machine.

"It'll take a few hours," he says. "Gotta go into town to get the part. We're all booked up for the night or I'd have 'em move you."

"But you _can_ fix it, can't you?" Charles asks and the man nods.

"LIke I said, it'll take a few hours." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "There's a pool out back. Might help you cool off til then."

Charles nods fervent thanks as the man heads out to his truck to drive into town for parts. The door is hardly closed before Charles starts stripping off his clothes.

Erik knows he should turn around, but it's hard to pull his eyes from the sight of Charles' fingers working nimbly at his buttons.

"There's no one at the pool," he says. "And I think I may actually expire from the heat at this point." Erik rolls his eyes at the hyperbole, but there are bright spots of color of Charles' cheeks and his nose is sunburnt just from being in the car. He's a bit delicate, Charles. For all his power, for all that his presence seems to cow people into submission, for all that he's brilliant, all of that is encased in the body of an academic who spends the majority of his time indoors.

Well, apparently he spends _some_ time out of doors because now he's shirtless and his trousers and missing and while he's not overly muscled, he's rather more fit than Erik expected. Which isn't helping any of the problems Erik's been having in his proximity.

"You should think about joining me," Charles says as he ducks into the bathroom to get a towel. "It's only just noon. It's bound to get hotter."

Erik has better things to do than torture himself by staring at what he can't have, so he waves Charles away and settles in to read his book.

Except. Well. It's hot. It's really very hot and while Erik's polo shirt and linen pants are breathable and light, the windows of the hotel room are bolted shut and there's no air circulation. It's just getting hotter every time Erik breathes out, and while it might be hotter outside, technically, there's a breeze and shade and--well, he doesn't have to _look_ at Charles, but maybe it _would_ be best to join him.

His opinion on that changes the moment he gets out to the pool.

Charles is in the water at first, which is bad enough--his hair is slicked back and his skin looks even more ethereal than usual under the filter of the water. The angle is awkward, though, and all Erik can really see from his deck chair in the shade is Charles' face. Then Charles gets out of the fucking water.

Erik's thankful for his sunglasses and the way they hopefully hide his eyes travelling up and down Charles' body. He tries to keep his expression indifferent, but Charles has been swimming in just his shorts which are molded to every part of him as he climbs out of the pool. The water droplets clinging to him glisten in the sun and highlight the dozens and dozens of freckles across his back and shoulders. Erik wants to trace them with his tongue, taste them all and count them. They're on his face, too, darker than usual, more vibrant from the sun and Erik has to swallow a very undignified sound.

This isn't him. He doesn't fall for people like this. He doesn't join teams, he doesn't make friends, he doesn't focus on anything but his mission, and he doesn't moon over anyone. If he needs to get off, he picks up a warm body in a bar. He certainly doesn't harbor feelings like this, fantasize about touching every inch of someone's skin. Erik's a man of action. Erik takes what he wants.

"This is better, isn't it?" Charles says.

"Mmphn," Erik says.

Okay. So maybe he needs more work taking what he wants in this case.

He watches Charles stretch in the sun, pretending to stare at his book but raising his eyes just enough to follow the line of Charles' back and see drops of water rolling across his skin as he shakes his hair dry. There is water beaded in his eyelashes. It's obscene.

And then he crosses to where Erik is sitting and lies on his stomach on a lounge chair, just a few feet out of Erik's reach, and _that_ is the new definition of obscene.

"I'm just going to lie here a moment," Charles murmurs. "Wake me if I start to burn?"

Erik makes a noise that he hopes sounds vague and affirmative and not like he would very much like to climb on top of Charles and cup his ass through his wet shorts.

He really would like to, though. And then get rid of the shorts all together.

Erik bites the inside of his cheeks hard and forces himself to concentrate on his book. When that becomes too difficult, he forces himself to concentrate on staring at the page and not looking like a drooling lecher, a task at which he's slightly more successful. It doesn't help that Charles _invited_ him to stare. It's all too easy to steal glances under the guise of making sure Charles isn't turning red. Charles doesn't have to know that Erik's also memorizing the placement of his freckles and the curve of his back.

"There's some sunblock on the table," Charles murmurs, startling Erik out of his lustful stupor.

"What?" Erik asks.

"If you don't mind, if you could just get my back?"

That's it. That's the fucking end. He's always known the world was a cruel and unfair place, but this--

"Or you could just touch me without the excuse of sunblock," Charles suggests.

Erik snaps his gaze to Charles' face. Charles is smiling. He looks incredibly pleased with himself.

"What are you--"

"When you stepped out onto the pool deck, your brain shouted an array of pornographic fantasies at incredible volume," Charles says. "I had to stay in the pool an extra five minutes just to be fit for mixed company."

Erik just stares at him. He understands the words, but somewhere between hearing the English and translating them and forming a response, his brain has short circuited entirely. The silence drags on for much longer than it should, but Charles, damn him, looks no less smug for it.

"Are you saying...?" Erik finally asks.

"I'm saying," Charles says, "That there's no one else around and I can keep it that way and you should take this as an open invitation to peel off my clothing and do whatever you'd like. Oh! That one sounds lovely--that too--well, I suppose we'd need the sunscreen for tha--mmrph!"

And then Charles stops talking because Erik is finally, finally kissing him. His skin is as warm as Erik imagined, soft and slightly tacky from the chlorine. The smugness that's been radiating out of him twists into something softer and affectionate and when Erik urges him up, pulls Charles against him, Charles goes willingly.

"Finally," Charles breathes when Erik's mouth moves to his throat. "Finally, _finally_."

Erik hopes it takes them hours to fix the air conditioner.


End file.
